


Drowning in Bachelors

by rosesscythes



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Surfers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesscythes/pseuds/rosesscythes
Summary: The question of the day at Adaptica Beach: has Rodimus, founder of the Adaptica Surf Club, bitten off more than he can chew, or are those new lifeguards just that hot?





	1. Surf's Up

**Author's Note:**

> commission for my friend mercedes!

“Yo Rodimus! You hear about the new lifeguards?”

Rodimus glanced out from his locker, just putting away his backpack full of his normal clothes, to see Riptide approaching him, surfboard already in hand. At 6 foot 5 inches, the other surfer had a massive height difference over the redhead, complemented by his trimmed body, tan skin, and dyed blue hair. His surf shorts and board both bore a tidal wave pattern, and he permanently wore a shark tooth necklace, playing into his own stereotype. Rodimus caught his friend’s high five as he closed his locker.

“No, what’s up?” the shorter man asked as he grabbed his own surfboard, a simple affair of a red board with yellow flames painted on. He walked with Riptide out of the locker room facility, one that bordered the rather gorgeous Adaptica beach. Gulls swooped overhead, the hot sands warming their feet as the duo walked towards the water together. 

Riptide glanced around shiftily, as though anything he had to say was of the utmost secret, as if Rodimus wasn’t gonna find out in a few minutes. “Apparently Trailcutter got fired for drinking on the job, and Skids went with him. They’re starting two new guys today.”

“Oh shit, really?” Rodimus raised an eyebrow in thought. He had liked them both, Trailcutter especially. The dude knew a good party when he saw one. Apparently, however, he had seen work as a party too. Rodimus knew he’d have to reach out to the now-former lifeguard later, but continued the line of discussion with Riptide. “Any word on what the new guys are like?”

“First Aid told me a little,” Riptide responded, relaxing a little. Rodimus nodded, recognizing the name of Adaptica Beach’s favorite overworked...well, first aid responder. “One of them’s named Roller, he just moved into town, and he’s apparently pretty chill. Not as chill as Trailcutter, of course, but I mean-”

“Yeah,” Rodimus nodded again. “And the other?”

“Name’s Thunderclash. Apparently he was really notable over at Troja Major. He’s really nice. Like super nice. Like the nicest guy you could ever me-”

Rodimus raised a hand, cutting off Riptide’s descent into attempting a simile. “I get it. So what’s the big deal, besides Trailcutter getting kicked? These dudes sound fine.”

Riptide shrugged. “Well, according to First Aid, they’re both your type. And it’s been a while since you and Drift broke up, so…” 

“Oh please,” Rodimus shook his head and looked at Riptide. “I’m not gonna go slutting it up for the first two new beach hunks I see. I may be thotty, but I’m not that thotty. There’s plenty of hot dudes at Adaptica, these guys will honestly just have to get in line. Present company included at that first statement.” Rodimus knew for a fact that both he and Riptide were pretty, even if he was more than a little smarter than his surfing buddy. What were another two hot guys gonna do, besides maybe provide some competition?

That was what he thought until he walked into an absolute Adonis of a man, not looking where he was going. Rodimus stumbled as Riptide chuckled, before recovering. “Hey, watch where-” Rodimus looked up at the man before him. Absolutely perfectly defined abs visible through his white-with-a-teal-bird tank top, a good mixture of glamour and power muscles sculpted marvelously all over his body, and a blue visor that framed a blushing, soft face. 

And an orange whistle around his neck, meaning he was a lifeguard. 

Rodimus took a step back, even as the man offered him his hand. “Apologies, chap,” the man said with perhaps the only British accent Rodimus could stand (even as a friend of Brainstorm and Nautica’s). “I’m Thunderclash, I’m new here.” He jerked a thumb behind him, where Rodimus could see another man with yet another gorgeous body, albeit with an orange and teal swimsuit, as well as another orange whistle around his neck. The other man lazily waved at him, sipping at a juice box that was clasped between his perfectly white teeth. “This is my partner, Roller. I believe you were discussing us?”

Riptide stammered. “Hi, yeah, I’m Riptide, and this is-” he looked over to Rodimus, whose face had gone redder than his surfboard. “Rodimus.”

“Uh, yeah!” Rodimus quickly covered. “We just heard you guys were starting! Good luck on the new job!” He grabbed Riptide and pushed past the two. “We’ve gotta catch the waves, though, it’s about high tide and all that, so see ya!”

“Wait!” Thunderclash called after them. Rodimus paused and turned, with a raised eyebrow, hoping he didn’t have to stay there for more than a second. Thunderclash, however, paused, clearly considering what he wanted to say. “Uh...Remember to wear sunscreen!” Rodimus could see Roller aptly rolling his eyes beside his partner, but he flashed Rodimus a cheeky grin and a wink. 

In response, Rodimus pulled Riptide further, not saying another word until they reached the water. The duo flopped onto their surfboards and paddled out to sea, where Anode and Lug were already waiting for them.

The shorter woman laughed herself redder than her swim cap when she saw Rodimus’ own blush. Her wife grinned at him. “Met the new lifeguards, huh?”

“I hate them,” Rodimus declared, finally speaking.

“Really?” Riptide turned, looking genuinely shocked. He had thought from Rodimus’ actions that he was already crushing on them, not that he despised them both!

Rodimus facepalmed at his friend. “They’re stupidly hot and I hate them and I hate that I want them to-”

“Oi! Not for our ears you don’t!” Anode teased, shoving at Rodimus and threatening to push him off his board. He paddled a little outside her range and sighed, flopping his face all but into his board. She shook her head at him. “One meeting and you’re already head over heels. Why don’t you find out about their personalities first, and then decide, genius? Maybe they’re dickheads.”

“Unlikely,” Rodimus moaned. “Thunderclash reminded me to wear sunscreen, like I haven’t been surfing since I was like 5. What am I supposed to do against that sort of genuine cheerfulness? I might as well just lay here and let the ocean drag me down.”

Lug chuckled, turning to sit on her board, her small mass preventing it from dipping beneath the water. “If you did, do you think they’d have to choose who gets to save you?”

Anode smiled her signature Cheshire’s cat grin. “Just be glad Drift’s not here today, he might warn them off. Tell ‘em all your bad traits, you know?” When Rodimus didn’t even respond, she paddled over and poked him. “Huh,” she said, sitting back like her wife. “They really did get you something fierce, eh?”

“Ugh,” was Rodimus’ only response.

“Surf’s up!” Riptide called, breaking the quartet out of it. At least they could enjoy some nice waves today.

Even as they were observed by the two new hunks working as lifeguards, who had already come to a mutual agreement that they both had the hots for that redheaded surfer with the positively fantastic ass. 

* * *

Swerve’s was the designated hangout spot for the locals of Adaptica, a smiling caricature overhanging its cheesily tiki-style structure (something Riptide had given Swerve some righteous flak for, with the owner’s only response having been that it was how he bought it and at least it wasn’t as gentrified as “Visages” and if Riptide didn’t like it he could go there and pay $17 for a beer). Almost everyone came to it for drinks. The Adaptica Surf Club, Adaptica Hospital staff, and the lifeguard crew tended to occupy the center tables. In a corner booth at night and on weekends loomed the janitor’s husband, who worked as a teacher during normal days. The gang of delinquents known as the Scavengers occupied another booth, being watched from across the bar by a certain trio of cops who tended to have to deal with them. The bar itself was oft taken by the town’s aquarium workers, as well as a certain private investigator who very rarely had a case. The bouncer, a quiet gentle sort, was on a stool by the door, but he knew everyone there was of age simply from how much they frequented.

It was there that Drift met up with the other members of his surf club, having been busy for the day teaching a kendo class. “Hey guys, how was the water today?” he asked, stepping up to the table and taking a seat next to Rodimus. 

“Awful,” was Rodimus’ response, muffled by the fact that he was currently slumped over the table in a position all too similar to how he had been hours before on his surfboard. Sure, he’d enjoyed the day of surfing, but while leaving the beach he’d caught Thunderclash and Roller’s eyes again, the duo waving at him as he left, and all his feelings had come crashing down on him once more. 

And if that wasn’t enough, he’d gotten sunburnt.

Anode nudged him, grinning as much as ever. “Roddy’s got not one, but two crushes, courtesy of the new lifeguards!” She knew that despite their past relationship, Drift and Rodimus were still the best of friends, and neither would actually mind her spilling the details.

“New lifeguards?” Drift stroked his chin. “I heard something about that.” He waved Bluestreak over and ordered a beer before turning back to the conversation. He took in Rodimus’ posture and burnt cheeks. “Apparently they’re pretty cool, even if it meant Trailcutter and Skids got kicked.” 

Before Rodimus could respond, Lug gestured to the door. “Speak of the devil...” Thunderclash and Roller were striding into the bar, shirtless with tanned muscles glistening, taking in the atmosphere with glances around.

Somewhere Rodimus swore he heard a catcall.

Unfortunately for the redhead, he didn’t have time to duck his head before his eyes met Roller’s again, and the lifeguard flashed him a smirk. He grabbed Thunderclash’s arm and led him to the central table where the Surf Club was sitting. “Hello again, Rodimus!” Thunderclash said, moving to take a chair. “Are these seats taken?”

Before Rodimus could respond, Drift replied in the affirmative. He held out a hand, and Thunderclash took it and shook it. “I’m Drift,” he told the taller man. “I’m another member of the Adaptica Surf Club.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard our names already,” Thunderclash nodded. He turned to Anode and Lug and inclined his head, both out of respect and to look more evenly at the two short women. “And you must be Anode and Lug. Roller thought he spotted you swimming with Rodimus.”

“Oh really, big guy?” Lug chuckled. Roller had taken the seat next to her, with Anode opposite, and she playfully slugged him in the shoulder. At Rodimus and the others’ questioning looks, she shrugged. “We went to college together, and had the same English teacher.” 

“Been a while, shortstuff,” Roller grinned. “So you surf?”

Lug nodded, and Anode took the opportunity to cut in. “I’m always keen on new adventure, and hey, Adaptica is a beach city. So I signed us up for lessons, Lug got dragged along, and next thing we knew we were part of a club with this-” she jerked a thumb at Rodimus, who looked at her with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, “-pretty boy.”

Roller’s gaze lingered on Rodimus. “Well, he does seem like a charmer,” he said smoothly. 

Despite himself, Rodimus suddenly felt extremely thankful for the sunburn covering up his blush. He tried to channel his cockiest, most charming energy to make up for it. “Yeah, me and Drift were dating at the time, and we wanted to make friends. We’ve both always surfed, and Drift got his friend Riptide in on it too. Lug and Anode have been our only signups so far, but we’ve made friends with the lifeguards. Well, the ones before you.”

“And the first aid team!” Riptide cut in, only to get elbowed by Rodimus under the table. Way to embarrass him, dude. Riptide corrected himself. “I mean, when they’re working on people who aren’t so good in the water, of course.”

Rodimus, searching for a way past that, caught Thunderclash looking at him with a strange expression. He was about to ask what was up when-

“I thought I reminded you to wear sunscreen.”

Rodimus’ face hit the table.


	2. Mail Call

Rodimus, as much as he presented otherwise, had his fair share of problems in life. Captaining the surf club was fun, but finding other clubs to compete with was often a difficult proposition. As popular as Adaptica Beach was, there were a lot more suntanners and casual swimmers than surfers around. And yet, it still didn’t compare to the hassle of his day job.

“Heads up!” he heard a cry, and yet when Rodimus looked to the air from the mailbox he was stuffing letters into, he saw nothing. Instead, he felt a sharp pain as a skateboard rammed hard into his ankle. The redhead swore, bending over to clutch his ankle. He hissed, before picking up the board to hand it to the young man running up to him.

“Thanks, dude.” Rodimus glanced at the guy: dark-haired, short, red shades...wasn’t this one of Anode’s friends? Wiper or something? Either way, the young man took the board, lowered it to the ground, and kept on skating-

“Without so much as a sorry. For shame,” another voice spoke from a little ways behind Rodimus, and the redhead winced again from sheer habit, pinning that voice exactly even with his little familiarity to it. It’d been a few days since his last club meet, he wasn’t even near the beach, so why of all places did Thunderclash have to be here? Still, the surfer turned around, and yes, the lifeguard was standing at the door of an apartment complex, one hand on the doorframe. He spoke again. “Are you alright?”

Rodimus reverted to his cockiest look, even as he took a step and winced. “Oh, fine, fine, just kinda happens. You know, people in this neighborhood and all that.” He strode forward, looking through his mail bag. “I don’t think I have anything for you, unfortunately.”

Thunderclash made a small humming noise. “Well, I have only lived here a week. I’m not sure of the neighborhood, and I’d be surprised if anyone sent me anything. That said, I do think you have something for me.” He locked eyes with Rodimus, and the shorter man swore up and down his heart stopped beating for a couple seconds. 

“Wh-what?”

Thunderclash grinned, breaking the eye contact, and Rodimus briefly mused on how unfair it was that he was just so gorgeous. “You can teach me! Introduce me to some of the locals, help me get to know everyone. I know some old friends of mine live around here, but I’m always interested in meeting new people.”

Rodimus let out a deep breath, thankful for a solid second that his not-so-hidden crush hadn’t had its cover blown like a manhole in a nuclear explosion. He craned his head a bit more to catch the taller man’s eyes again. “I mean, I guess I can help, though gotta tell you, this mailman gig’s just a thing to pay the bills. If you wanna walk the rest of the block with me, though, you’re welcome to.” 

“Sure thing.” Thunderclash stepped out of his apartments, and walked with Rodimus down the street. “So. Adaptica’s a bit posh, innit?”

“Pardon?” Rodimus glanced up, raising an eyebrow, before fully catching the meaning of what Thunderclash was saying. “Oh. I mean, it’s not like, Iacon-levels rich. If you go to South Adaptica, where the hospital is, it’s a bit more rundown. Heard it was something about state funding.”

“The hospital where Ratchet works, yes?” Thunderclash inquired. 

Rodimus blinked at the mention of his ex’s current boyfriend (and, if he suspected right, soon-to-be fiance). “You know Ratchet?” he asked, flipping open the mailbox next to Thunderclash’s building casually and throwing the correct mail in. He may have hated his job, but just like anything else, he was pretty good at it.

“Know him?” Thunderclash smiled. “I helped him pass his exams in his last year of med school. He was my biology tutor, but we kind of helped each other if you can believe that. We studied alongside Perceptor.”

Rodimus, for his part, couldn’t believe it, or just about anything about Thunderclash. This handsome, muscular, beautiful man was also smart enough to help two of the smartest people Rodimus knew? It was more than he could handle, a thousand emotions flooding through him, most of them good, but not quite all of them. In some ways, in fact, it infuriated him. Rodimus thought highly of himself, but Thunderclash had him well, well surpassed, and that bothered him.

As much as it also made him want Thunderclash’s affection more.

Thunderclash cleared his throat awkwardly, noticing Rodimus’ dead pause, fearing he’d made a misstep somehow, but worrying that bringing it up further would only lead to more trouble. Rodimus was nice and all, but he did have a big enough ego from what the lifeguard had observed, and Thunderclash noticed he’d wounded it. “Regardless,” he began again. “How do you know Ratchet?”

Rodimus blinked, then shrugged and snapped out of his reverie, walking forward to the next mailbox. “He’s dating Drift, my ex,” the redhead replied as coolly as he could muster. Thunderclash winced, and Rodimus shrugged again. “It’s no big deal. Drift and I just kinda work better as friends, and Ratchet’s good for him. Plus you’re right: Ratchet is a good mentor.” Thunderclash nodded thoughtfully, and Rodimus took the opportunity to continue the train of thought. “Perceptor, though? You wouldn’t happen to know Nautica and Brainstorm too, would you?”

Thunderclash raised a hand, scratching the back of his head casually. “Nautica I do know, though not through Perceptor. She was out with some friends of hers the first night I got here, and I chatted with them a bit. She seems nice. Never heard of Brainstorm, however.”

Somewhere deep in Rodimus, a little spark of jealousy cheered at the thought that at least he knew someone better than Thunderclash, one that he failed to quash with a reminder that he knew most of the town better than the taller man regardless. “Yeah, they work with Perceptor over at the Adaptica Aquarium. Brainstorm’s got a massive crush on Percy, but Percy’s too focused on his work and all that.”

“This town is awfully romance-heavy, isn’t it?” Thunderclash mused as he and Rodimus moved onto the next mailbox. 

Rodimus glanced up at him. “Heavy may be too light of a word. And besides, looking as pretty and acting so nice like you do, I’m surprised no one’s jumped you yet.” He shut the mailbox with more force than he intended as he realized just what he said, and he dared to venture a glance at Thunderclash, who was blushing something fierce. Rodimus looked away again, back down the street, avoiding the larger man’s gawping. He realized, unfortunately, that there was only one more house to go.

The silence lasted a short while, however, before Thunderclash went back at it, albeit looking down as he fiddled with his hands a bit. “I’m flattered by your words, although I’m afraid I’m not actually much of a catch.” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

Rodimus’ short, snappish reply caught Thunderclash off guard by a mile, so much so that he struggled to respond for a good few seconds. When he did finally find the ability to speak again, however, all the larger man could articulate was a “What?”

Rodimus, who throughout the silence had been filling the last mailbox, whirled on him. “Dude, where do you get off calling yourself not much of a catch?”

“I...beg your pardon?” Thunderclash ventured. What had caused Rodimus’ sudden turn of attitude? Surely he hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? He backpedaled a bit instinctively, raising his hands defensively. He hadn’t meant to say anything to hurt Rodimus’ feelings, he’d swear it to his grave as such.

The shorter man seemed to grasp Thunderclash’s genuine befuddlement and surprise, and calmed down a bit, raising his hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. “That...was genuine, wasn’t it?” Rodimus said, regret absolutely flooding him at this moment. How close he’d come to fucking it up, he supposed. 

Thunderclash blinked owlishly. “I...yes? Why wouldn’t it be? As far as I care, Rodimus, I’m bog-standard. The baseline, and all that. I mean, I know there’s certainly worse people around, but there’s almost certainly better as well.” He felt awkward, like a deer caught in a department store. In the lifeguard’s eyes, all he did was what the universe expected of him: to do the best he could for the people around him.

Rodimus sighed, opening his eyes and releasing his grip on his nose. He did feel bad, even if that jealous spark from earlier had burst, erupted into a showering flame inside him. “I’m sorry for snapping, it’s just...dude. You’re gorgeous, and it’s shit like this that proves my point about you being super, super nice. Other people say they’re nothing special to self-deprecate, y’know? But like...fuck, I can tell you mean it, and that’s super weird.” 

Inclining his head, Thunderclash blinked again. “I’m...sorry? I really don’t know what to say, Rodimus.” He tried, in his mind, to place himself in Rodimus’ shoes. Popular, attractive, full of bravado to the point of occasional rashness...ah, there it was. Rodimus was failing to understand his humbleness, as he himself was full of confidence. It was fair, and Thunderclash tried to respond to it. “I just think that it’s important for everyone to strive to be their best selves. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, innit? I may be, as you put it, ‘gorgeous’-” he caught Rodimus blushing, even as his own words were parroted back to him, and filed that mental image away for later personal enjoyment, “but I truly believe that so long as people are generally good, they themselves are inherently attractive.”

Rodimus pursed his lips, clearly trying to process this information, running it through his head. “I...guess I get it.” He relaxed his posture, throwing his hands behind his head and stretching his back out a bit. A knot had suddenly formed in his spine, and he resisted the urge to immediately ask the hunk standing before him to massage it out with those big, tender-looking hands and whoops that was a heck of a thought that Rodimus immediately shook his head to clear. He did not need to be going there right now, not while trying to have an in-depth conversation with the object of his affections. He finally continued, speaking with thought behind it for once. “I don’t think the world really works like that, though.” He started striding back the way they came, at a somewhat faster clip than before, thanks to the mailboxes all being filled.

Thunderclash shrugged. “Well, I for one want it to.” He said nothing as they made their way back to his door. When he reached it, however, he turned around, looking thoughtful. “Roller thinks the same way as you do, you know,” he told Rodimus. 

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

Thunderclash nodded. “He thinks that I could really let myself shine some more. I suppose it’s good to have people in my life that tell me so.” He smiled, a soft, sweet smile, down at Rodimus, and caught yet another glimpse of that gorgeous blush staining the shorter man’s cheeks like a perfect flame reflected on his face. A blush that only intensified with his next question.

“Do you want to have my number? I could use more contacts in the city. New to town and all that.”

Rodimus stammered out a “Sure,” pulling out his phone and unlocking it before handing it over to Thunderclash. The taller man took it with ease and deftly punched in digits and a name before handing it back. Without even looking at it, Rodimus put the phone back in his pocket, then glanced down the street, where he’d left his mail van. “I think I gotta keep up with my route. I’ll, uh, catch you later, okay?”

“Alright,” Thunderclash replied. “See you then.” He closed the door gently, before positively rushing up to his apartment. He got in and glanced out his window to see Rodimus getting into his van, and a brief pause before it started up again, pulling out and away from Thunderclash’s street, before pulling out his own phone. It dinged in a matter of seconds, a short ‘hey it’s rodimus’, and Thunderclash smiled softly at the message before switching over to his messages with Roller.

Thunderclash would have to let his fellow lifeguard know, after all, that he’d included Roller’s number alongside his own in Rodimus’ phone.


	3. Family Matters

The sun was shining, the water was clear, the waves was positively huge, and Rodimus was having the time of his life today, as he did every day it was like this in Adaptica. It was a Sunday morning to boot, meaning he was off, free to relax and just ride the waves. He’d spent the last couple days talking to Thunderclash and Roller through text, and for once in his life, things were going exactly as well as he acted like they went. 

“Heads up!” the redhead laughed as he sailed easily past Lug, who was waiting on a wave of her own. He controlled his board carefully, riding the wave as it rolled towards the coast, finishing out smoothly. If he had to grade his own technique, Rodimus would’ve given himself an eleven out of ten, a point higher than usual. 

What made him come to a dead stop, however, was when he glanced at the lifeguard tower, hoping to get some beaming look of praise from the on-duty Roller. The buff man was there still, but wasn’t looking at Rodimus. Rather, he was distracted by an older man with silver hair and a scarred face talking to him, looking more stern than back of a boat, and a face Rodimus knew all too well. Curious, Rodimus paddled back to the shore, emerging from the water and walking up the sand to see just what was going on. 

“-realize that you have people to take care of, yes? This isn’t just some summer job you had as a teenager.” The older man was glowering, though one could be forgiven for mistaking his reddened face for heat exhaustion, given that he was wearing a suit on top of the hot sands of the beach. Roller look chastised, but wasn’t fighting back at the criticism. 

“Oi, Megatron, what’s up!” Rodimus called, waving and breaking up the conversation. Megatron, director of the Adaptica Lifeguards and eternal thorn in Rodimus’ side for multiple reasons, turned and glared at him as he approached. Despite himself, Rodimus put on his most chipper face, just to bother Megatron that little bit more. “I think Roller’s been doing a pretty fantastic job, myself.”

Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hello, Rodimus, and I am aware that that is what you would think.” At Rodimus’ sarcastically questioning look and Roller’s sheepish glance to the side, he followed that up. “But Roller can’t spend all of his time staring at you in particular. He has a job to do.”

“Ah yes, a lifeguarding job,” Rodimus shot back. “Because you spend most of your time doing so much of that and not sitting in your office, lusting over my old man.” 

Megatron’s red face shifted into a flustered look, but then steeled itself. “Oh? Has your father told you he’s coming to town in a few days? I’m sure Optimus would love to hear what his son has been…” he spared a glance at Roller, who’d taken on a curious look, “up to recently.”

Rodimus’ own face turned to steel right back. “He can say whatever the fuck he wants to me to my face, Megs. Just as he did to you, remember?” 

Megatron grunted, before turning back to Roller. “We’ll continue our conversation later.” He marched off, back to the safe, cool comfort of his office, right off the beach. Rodimus watched him go, imagining him collapsing in that dumb desk chair and angrily picking up some book while privately coming up with an evil scheme he could never actually execute. 

“Thanks for the save, Rods,” Roller said, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “He just caught me...well, eyeing you, to be frank, and started giving me an earful.”

Rodimus shrugged in turn. “Eh, Megatron’s kinda got it out for me and the rest of the Surf Club. Little bit my fault, little bit his fault, a lot of it my dad’s fault. Doesn’t make it right for him to go after you, though.” 

“About that…” Roller looked even more sheepish than he had before, and it took all of Rodimus’ energy not to kiss his blushing cheeks, god what an adorable piece of beefcake, “I mean, you don’t gotta tell me everything, but he did mention your dad is named Optimus, and does he really mean-”

“Oh no, it’s fine, pretty much everyone already knows,” Rodimus interrupted, acting as casual about it as he could muster. “Basically my dad is, well, Optimus Prime. You know. The governor. And he used to fuck Megatron before they had a messy breakup.” 

“Really?” Roller chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Rodimus, for his part, only chuckled back as a show that he wasn’t upset at Roller, even if the subject did bother him a bit. “Unfortunately, pretty high. But then I made it my mission to piss Megatron off because I never liked them being together, and well, there’s a reason the Adaptica Surf Club doesn’t get much competition. We...well, we still don’t technically have an official license thanks to him.” 

Roller nodded. “Ah, that explains a lot.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Have you told your dad that he’s denying you that? Seems like something he could put a stop to.”

Rodimus shook his head. “Me and Optimus don’t exactly get along either these days. He gave me my postal job, sure, but...we’ve always clashed a bit. He thinks I could be aiming higher than just surfing, working in the government with him, and I think he’s got a shit taste in men.” He shrugged. “You’d think a gay dad and a gay son would escape the problems the hets have, but shitty fathers are universal across sexualities, I suppose.” 

Roller nodded understandingly, before slyly changing the subject. “So, in that case, you wouldn’t mind meeting me for dinner at Visages at 8, then?” 

A blush struck Rodimus’ face like a red lightning bolt, and he stammered for a second at the mood whiplash. “Pardon? I mean, like, fuckin’ yes, but excuse me?” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a big old awkward mess. It’d been a while since he was the one being asked out and not the other way around. Rodimus Prime was supposed to be daring and bold, charming and cavalier, not internally giggling like a schoolgirl asked out to her first prom. He was supposed to be-well, okay, being asked out by a lifeguard built like a farmhand with a smile that was a fusion of both was pretty nice. 

Roller slapped him on the back in turn, laughing. “C’mon, I owe you for saving me from the boss. It’ll be a good night, all on my dime, so wear something nice, alright? Text me your place’s address and I’ll be by at seven.” 

Rodimus grinned as genuinely as he could. “It’s a date, then. I’ll leave you to your work so I don’t have to save you again, though. After all, saving people is supposed to be your job, not mine.” He winked flirtily, before he jogged back to the water. 

Lug paddled up to him, Riptide following close behind. “Ooooo,” she catcalled as Rodimus plopped down onto his board, a dreamy smile covering his face. “Spill the details, hot shot.” 

“I’ve got a date, lads. Seven o’clock with Roller at Visages. He’ll even pick me up.” 

Riptide clapped him on the back, causing Rodimus to wince. Sometimes his fellow surfer didn’t even know his own strength. “Nice! What was that business with Megatron all about, then? Lug and I were watching from the water.”

Rodimus’ face sunk a little bit as he remembered what the lifeguard director had said about his father coming into town in a few days, but he brushed it off as something to deal with later. “Oh, just old Megs being a hardass as usual. Nothing for you guys to worry about.” He waved his hand back to the water. “Now come on, we’ve still got an hour left of high tide, and I don’t wanna waste it!” Rodimus began paddling towards a wave that was already growing, leading the charge as per usual.

Lug and Riptide glanced at each other, clearly reading that something was not entirely perfect with Rodimus despite his blossoming love life, but decided to brush it off and follow him into the surf.

* * *

“So, did you know my dad was coming into town in a few days?” Rodimus said, his voice as dry as possible. 

It was a few hours later, just in time for lunch, when he’d swung by Adaptica Hospital looking for one man in particular. Ratchet had always been on a little bit of a shaky ground with Rodimus, between dating his ex that Rodimus had introduced him to, being one of his father’s biggest donors, and a general clashing of personalities, but it wasn’t like they were enemies or something. If anything, Rodimus relied upon people like Ratchet, who had the experience and wisdom to rightfully tell him off when he was being an idiot. Particularly so when some surfing trick gone wrong landed Rodimus in Adaptica Hospital under Ratchet’s own dry-witted bedside manner.

Ratchet snorted as he unwrapped the egg salad sandwich Rodimus had bought him as a peace offering for the day’s time. They sat in the older man’s office together, a sign on the door marking that he was on his lunch break. “I had some idea.” He took a sniff of it, decided it was up to his standards, and bit in, grunting his enjoyment.

Rodimus chewed on his own caprese sandwich, swallowing a bite and using the sandwich itself to gesture. “And you didn’t tell me?” 

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “I’m a busy man, Rodimus, I don’t have time to go texting my boyfriend’s ex to get involved with his family troubles. I already have enough drama with you, I don’t need more, especially when I do actually like you for some reason.” At the other man’s unimpressed stare, clearly not one over by Ratchet’s spiel, the doctor sighed. “And it was Prowl who told me, not Optimus. I didn’t know if Optimus himself told you, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of you if I told you for him, now would it?”

Rodimus groaned, covering his face with his hand. “No, I just had to hear from Megatron. And ugh, Prowl, really?” He shuddered at the mention of his dad’s icy campaign manager. Everyone in Rodimus’ friend group universally agreed with his drunken theory that Prowl had slept with Optimus, even if the scandal would be pointless to out. “You don’t think he’d bring him with him, would you? Because I do not need the both of them right now. Not with how good my life’s been going, thank you very much!”

“Given that it’s not an election year, thankfully I think we’re free of him.” Ratchet grunted. He was as much of a fan of Prowl as anyone. “No, I think this is a personal call, unfortunately for you. According to Prowl, Optimus thinks he should come see his son.”

“Fucking great,” Rodimus muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich and swallowing it. “I’ve got a date lined up for tonight, I’ve got more than fair odds of a second, the last thing I need is for my crappy old man to come rumbling into town.”

“So I’ve heard,” Ratchet replied, a smirk alighting on his face. “Drift’s been keeping me updated. You’re really gunning for both new lifeguards at once, huh?”

“Sure, why not?” Rodimus replied. “You haven’t even seen what hunks they are.”

“I can imagine.” Ratchet finished up his sandwich and checked his watch. “Alright, I’ve gotta be going back to work.” He stood, Rodimus still halfway through his own lunch but following. “Good luck on your date, and now get the hell outta my office.” Just to show that the last statement was one of Ratchet’s usual cynical bedside mannerisms, he patted Rodimus on the back, before taking his sign off the door. He watched the redhead leave, and turned back to his computer, taking it off sleep mode and getting back to work. Despite himself, a smug look overtook the doctor’s face when he noticed the latest patient was showing signs of a heart attack.

Guess that made two in a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the actual plot starts to form...


	4. Date Night

It was 6:55 PM, and Rodimus was dressed to the nines. A fashionable orange button-up, a red windbreaker, and black jeans all perfectly matched together, along with red sneakers and belt to add that little bit more pop to his colors. He checked over his hair gel for what had to be the fortieth time that night. He whipped out his phone and took a quick selfie, perfectly posed with his hand running through his hair, mouth making a kiss, and shot it, sending it to every app he was on and as well as some select friends with the caption “Date night!”. Satisfied, he smiled and tucked his phone away, just in time for his doorbell to ring. “Coming!” Rodimus called down the hall, and lightly jogged to his door to open it.

And there was Roller, precisely four minutes early to pick his date up. The taller, buffer man was dressed nicely in his own right, with a matching orange polo, dark green leather jacket, and his own black pants. A neat black scarf was wrapped around his neck. Rodimus’ grin only grew as he took it in. They hadn’t even coordinated together, but they were matching without wearing the exact same thing? It was only a good sign for things to come. He stepped forward and laid one hand on Roller’s scarf, tipping up and giving the larger man a quick little peck on the cheek in greeting. Rodimus stepped back, made another show of looking over Roller’s outfit, and nodded. “You look great! Though aren’t you a little bit warm in that outfit?”

Roller shrugged, sheepishly grinning. “Eh, I like to be cozy. And, uh,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I haven’t bought any lighter jackets since I moved yet. I do tend to spend most of the day in my swim clothes, after all.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Well, if you’d like, I’d be happy to go shopping with you and pick something out after dinner.” He moved through his door and locked it behind him, stepping out into the night air with Roller. “Though I think you’d look great in anything, personally speaking,” he teased. He spotted a blue SUV that hadn’t been there earlier, and gestured to it. “This is your ride, I’m assuming?”

Roller nodded. “Yep. She’s not the fastest or prettiest car out there, but she’s been with me since I first started driving.” He moved to it and held open the passenger seat door for Rodimus. “Gentlemen first,” Roller teased.

Rodimus neatly slid into the proffered seat, buckling himself in and looking around at Roller’s SUV while waiting on his date to get into the driver’s seat. It was simple, all things considered: more seats in the back, a nice dark green interior, and a pine-scented air freshener draped over the mirror. All of it was brought together by a little bobblehead of a trucker glued neatly to the dashboard. He laughed. “Who’s this?” the redhead asked as he flicked the bobblehead, casting a glance to Roller, who was just buckling in.

Roller raised an eye as he looked at what Rodimus was playing with, and he chuckled. “Oh, him?” he said as he plugged the key into the ignition. “His name’s Ollie. He keeps me company.”

“Oh really?” Rodimus questioned.

Roller shrugged a shoulder casually. “He also brings back some good memories,” he said as he pulled the car into the street and started the drive to dinner. “I’m the type who kinda comes with a backstory, if you wanna hear.”

Sitting back, Rodimus nodded. “Go ahead then, you’ve got me curious.”

A green light heralded their first intersection, reflecting onto Roller’s face as he drove. “I haven’t actually worked as a lifeguard that long. I took some classes when I was in high school, but it’s kinda a backup job. After college, I decided I didn’t wanna do academics, and signed up for police academy.” He cast a sidelong glance at Rodimus as they pulled up to a red light. “”It just showed me a bunch of really shitty parts of our society. So I quit that, ended up getting a job trucking with my uncle. Started out doing the short jobs, until I was experienced enough in it that I could do long hauls. I’d never been to the ocean, though, until a couple years ago. The first time I saw it…” Roller paused, his eyes shining with the fond memory, just as they crested a hill that overlooked the beach. “I liked being a trucker, but I wanted to work with water, and I had something to fall back on. Maybe I’ll drift back to my roots one day, but for now I’d rather be at the beach.” He caught onto how long his story had become and coughed nervously after a brief pause. “Er, anyways, Ollie’s just a little souvenir I bought.”

Rodimus nodded, enrapt. He stumbled for a second on his own part at the conclusion, before recovering and saying, “Wow. That’s quite an interesting life.” He paused, considering. “Didja have one of the little CB radios? What was your callsign?”

“Ten-four Big Red,” Roller replied in the most stereotypical trucker voice imaginable, a couple giggles breaking through the little impression he’d launched into. He took one hand off the wheel and held it in front of his face like a radio receiver. “This is,” he glanced at Rodimus, mirth in his eyes, “Paddy Wagon. Over and out.”

The duo laughed for a solid half a minute together at Roller’s goofy little outburst, before Rodimus finally calmed down enough to talk. “That’s great,” Rodimus smiled.

“What’s gonna be great are these drinks we’ll be having,” Roller replied, grinning as he pulled his car neatly into “Visages”’ parking lot. Built into a cliff overlooking the water itself, “Visages” (quotation marks included) was the definition of swank and sleekness. The entire bar was angularly designed, all steel and blue, with a large, multi-level interior that one could see through the front that was covered in windows. A dance floor took up the lower, central level, tables dotted the area around it, and the bar, tended by Mirage himself, was in the back. Capping it all off was a neon blue-and-purple logo along one wall. It looked like a scene straight out of a Bond movie. Rodimus couldn’t help but gape a little at it every time he saw it. 

Roller parked and the two got out, entering the bar and being greeted by a receptionist, who took Roller’s name, led the two to a booth in the corner by the bar, and left them with menus. Rodimus let out a wolf-whistle as he looked over both the food and drink menus. “I haven’t been here in ages. The menu’s always changing.” He smiled up at Roller. “This is a real treat. Thank you.”

Roller smiled right back. “I figured I oughta hit up the nicest place in town for my first date here,” he replied, taking a look at his own menu. “Get whatever you want.”

Rodimus nodded and looked back. He decided rather quickly on a rum-and-coke to drink before really peering into the food menu. There were limited options, but all of it sounded really good. He knew Mirage’s friend Inferno was the chef, and the two worked closely to match the menu to the drinks and atmosphere. Looking over the choices, he was trying to choose between the fish & chips or the lobster bisque when Roller spoke up again. “So, how’d you get started surfing?” he asked from across the table.

The redhead put his menu down, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “There’s not really much to it, unlike your story, I’m afraid. I went to a boarding school in Nyon as a teenager, my friends got me into it, and I ended up caring about it even into adulthood. There is a bit of a story to the club, if you want?” He gazed hopefully at Roller.

“Go ahead then, you’ve got me curious,” Roller replied, grinning at Rodimus, who caught onto the reference and chuckled. Before he could quite start, a waiter came up to the table and took their orders. Roller, for his part, ordered the salmon along with a beer, while Rodimus finally decided on the fish & chips. As the waiter left, they looked back to each other, and Roller gestured for Rodimus to continue.

“Alright, so imagine, like, me, but six years ago. Just out of college, finally an adult who doesn’t really have to deal with his dad, just moved into Adaptica, cocky as hell. All-around? An asshole.” Rodimus grinned in jest, and used his hand to yank up the back scruff of his hair. “I had a fucking stringy ponytail. It was terrible.” He allowed Roller a couple seconds to imagine the sight and chuckle before he continued. “So I look into the surfing here for recreation, and there’s nothing? Somehow? Despite this being a beach city.” He rolled his eyes. “So I hit up the gyms, and I meet Drift. We hit it off and complained about the lack of surfing. Finally, drunk as hell one night about a month after meeting, we somehow filed to make our own club. Drift called up his buddy Riptide to join. It was just the three of us for a bit, had a few on-and-off members, but Anode and Lug a couple years ago were the first new people who actually stuck with us.” He fiddled with his fingers a bit. “Well, we were casual, but...lately we’ve been thinking about getting into competitive. Surfing with some other cities. But Megatron’s in charge of handing out team licenses, and well, I don’t really wanna ask him.”

Roller nodded understandingly. “He is a bit of a hardass.” He thought for a minute. “You said your dad’s coming to town? Maybe since he’s, you know, the governor, you can get him to apply some pressure. He helped get you your job, didn’t he?”

Rodimus shrugged. “The old man is...he supports a lot of what I do, but it’s hard to ask him for things. He’s got a lot of responsibility, and it makes him closed off. And he thinks that I should be doing more, that I’m talented enough to do a lot of good for my community, rather than just working as a mailman and surfing. He wants everyone to bear the weight of the world.” Their food and drink arrived and he thanked the waited before tucking into his meal. He groaned with pleasure as he took his first bite. “No offense to Swerve’s, but the fact that he doesn’t have a kitchen is what’s really screwing him over.” He mentally thanked the waiter for a good opportunity to change the subject.

“Indeed,” Roller replied, having taken a first bite of his own fish meal. He took a sip of his beer before holding it out and looking at the label. “Hm. Beer’s good too, but I’m not sure it was worth $15.”

Rather than pity, however, he got laughter as a response. He raised an eyebrow at Rodimus, who waved a hand as he kept laughing, before finally calming down enough to respond properly. “You’ve fallen for the ‘Riptide Trap’.” Rodimus finally stated, though a chuckle still permeated his speech, before taking another breath and then explaining. “Anyone who buys a beer at “Visages” officially has the intelligence of Riptide. Mirage overcharges beers in particular because he thinks it’s a dumb drink. Order a cocktail next time.”

Roller nodded, smiling despite feeling a little ridiculous. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though you didn’t think to warn me?”

“Wanted to have a laugh, what can I say?” Rodimus teased. Roller stuck his tongue out at him, and he reciprocated, before they kept eating and chatting idly. 

Eventually the two finished their food and got the check. Roller had kept at a two-drink limit because he was driving, but Rodimus had had an extra cocktail. They drove steadily on, though quietly, as Roller drove Rodimus home.

As a stoplight turned green, only a few blocks away from Rodimus’ house, he spoke. “Did you still want to go clothes shopping? I just remembered.”

Roller shook his head as he pressed on the gas, casually rolling forward. “No, I think I’m good for the night.” He glanced sideways at Rodimus, who was slightly curled into his seat, looking back at him. Roller took one hand off the wheel and intentionally casually placed it by the drive stick. “It’s been lovely, though. Maybe for a second date, we can go?”

To Roller’s immeasurable delight, Rodimus took his hand, running a thumb over his calloused knuckles. “Of course. And right back at you on the loveliness.” He smiled, closed an eye, and shot a finger gun with his other hand to Roller. 

“Just make sure you don’t go clothes shopping with Thunderclash when you go out with him,” Roller snarked, but it was his friendly smile and chipper tone that made Rodimus blink, a little more than confused. 

“Wait,” Rodimus said as he connected the dots of what Roller had just said. “You mean-”

“I’m fine with you dating both of us? Dude, yeah.” Roller snorted as he pulled the SUV up to Rodimus’ house. He parked it smoothly, turning off the ignition before turning to Rodimus, a gentle smile overtaking his face. “I don’t have much interest in Thunderclash myself, but we both saw you and wanted you, and we’re good enough buddies to make it work. Besides,” a dastardly grin replace the prior smile. “You’re hot enough that it’d be a crime to keep you to one guy. And I’d assume you’re right when I say you reciprocate the feelings?”

Rodimus blushed redder than his own hair, but nodded. “I suppose I’ll have to give him a call too.” He scratched his neck, pausing in consideration. “May I kiss you before I go?”

“Of course,” Roller replied, leaning forward as Rodimus did the same. Their lips met and interlocked gently, Rodimus’ slightly salty, cinnamon-y taste contrasting with Roller’s own. They held together for a good bit, before Rodimus broke away, eyes lidded and smiling. 

“Good night,” he said, unbuckling himself and exiting the car, shutting the door behind him.

“Good night,” Roller replied, a little disappointed that Rodimus was leaving so soon, but he still waved him off before driving off into the night.

After all, if the first date went so well, why not have a second or more? 


End file.
